


certified mind blower

by scrapes



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapes/pseuds/scrapes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As the alternates, it’s kinda our duty to look after the team,” Shea says, grinning. “You know, make sure everyone’s getting what they need, feeling appreciated. Staying happy.” He grins and slaps Jamie’s ass as if to punctuate his speech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	certified mind blower

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after the semi-final because I needed to thank Jamie Benn for saving our bacon. Even if I had to do it by thanking fictional Jamie Benn. I added in a tidbit at the end after the gold medal game, too. The idea came to me when I realized how many NHL captains and leaders were on Team Canada already, but yes, it's just some PWP for fun, sorry for any inaccuracies... I, myself have never had gay male sex so unfortunately some of the logistics of it may be inaccurate. I also don't know a lot about Shea or Jamie, so I hope they aren't wildly out of character (I watched a bunch of interviews, I'm confident that they're fairly close). This is the first fic I've posted on this site, and also probably not the greatest fic I've ever written, I know. Oops.

            Jamie’s not entirely sure how he ended the evening with his dick in the mouth of one of his alternate captains and later on his ass filled with the other. Well, he knows _how_ he got here, he just isn’t entirely sure what “how” means. An hour ago the thought of how Jonathan Toews’ lips might taste with his cum on them hadn’t even crossed his mind, but now all he can think is “kinda sweet.”

* * *

 

            Earlier Jamie was collapsed into a couch at the Canada Olympic House. Some teammates had gone to bed and some had gone to party, and the remaining few were kicking around together in the big, multi-couched room, maybe reluctant to part ways for the night after an emotional semifinal win. Jamie sank blissfully into the soft couch cushions, relishing in a moment of zen surrounded by teammates. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, intending to let his mind wander, gratefully taking his thoughts off hockey for a second.

            Of course, Jamie would have preferred more than just a second of peace, but a voice from the adjacent armchair would not allow any more time.

            “Hey, Bennie!” Matt’s voice with its slight Haliburton twang roused Jamie out of his disappointingly brief pocket of relaxation. “Have you checked twitter? You’re getting tons of victory blowjob offers, Mr. Hero. Pretty hilarious.”

            Jamie had snorted and closed his eyes again. Scoring the only goal of a semifinal game in the Olympics had been more than enough excitement, he was happy enough to zone out _without_ his dick out tonight.

            Moments later when he opened his eyes again, he found Jon looking straight at him. When he noticed Jamie looking back his expression morphed into a small grin, and he dipped his chin ever so slightly.

            “Hey, want a blowjob?” Matty mocked, voice intentional climbing and falling as he let intonation tell the joke. Jamie laughed, but continued to watch Jonathan, who leaned across the arm of his chair to beckon the ear of a sprawled out Shea Weber. His words were brief, couldn’t have said more than three words, but propped up on an elbow, Shea grinned at Jamie like the devil had whispered an entire story in his ear. Which, judging by Jon’s expression, probably wasn’t far off.

            Jamie continued to stare at them with what he hoped was his best look of perplexion until Jon got to his feet, Shea pushing himself up as well. Jamie made a face as Jon, with the world’s premier shit-eating grin on his face, tipped his head towards the hallway. And with one last look at Jamie, left towards it, Shea following on his tail.

            Not exactly sure of what was going on and even less sure of what to do, Jamie blinked a few times. He glanced at Matty who was typing away on his phone, and at Marty and the few others bumming around and everyone seemed to be absorbed in their own world. So Jamie got to his feet and followed Shea and Jon down the corridor.

            “Nice of you to join us,” Shea’s deep voice teased as Jamie caught up to them. Jamie gave him a pointed look that said “I have no idea what’s going on and you know it.” Shea laughed. Jamie knew he could ask, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t give him a straight answer right away, and besides, Jamie wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t sure he even wanted an answer.

            However, as the three of them boarded the elevator, he couldn’t help but a drawn out “So…” escape his lips.

            Leaning against the mirrored wall, Jon mimicked Matt, “So, want a blowjob?” as casually as if he was offering Jamie a glass of water.

            “Sure,” Jamie was surprised to realize the calm voice belonged to him.

            “All those girls on twitter are right, you kinda deserve one, eh?”

            Jamie made an expression that in retrospect, he really hoped didn’t look as constipated as his memory told him it did, which only made Jon and Shea turn to each other and burst out laughing.

            “C’mon, kid,” Shea chuckled, ushering Jamie out of the elevator that he hadn’t even realized had stopped, and towards a door at the end of the hallway. Shea’s room.

            Momentarily, Jamie found his words. Or, word. “So…” God, wait, he had already used that monosyllabic prompt. Mentally berating himself for sounding so stupid, he almost missed Shea’s silent nod of reassurance. Reassurance for what, Jamie was still pretending he was not so sure. 

* * *

 

            And that was how Jamie initially found himself in one of the deceptively large dorm rooms in the Sochi athletes village, with the huge frame of Shea Weber and leaner frame of Jonathan Toews looking at him with ear-splittingly devilish grins.

            Unsure of what to say, Jamie absentmindedly thinks to ask, “Where’s Sid?”

            “If he’s not here now, he won’t be back for a while,” Jon says matter-of-factly, offering no explanation. “Ok, Bennie, time for your reward.”

            “Reward?”

            “Blowjob, dumbass,” Jon says, hovering in front of Jamie.

            “Oh,” Jamie replies, knowing full well there’s no way that “oh” sounded as confident as he’d hoped. To try and save face and because he’s still not sure if he’s totally grasped what’s happening or not, he tries to make his voice as casual as possible. “Are you flying one of those girls from Canada out here, or are you gonna do it?”

            “Well, unless you want me to go get Dutchy – I mean, he seemed pretty enthusiastic – Tazer’s got you covered,” Shea says flippantly, sitting down on one of the beds.

            The thought that all this could just be a weird and strangely homoerotic prank eludes Jamie, who finally allows himself to recognize the situation: Jonathan Toews is going to suck his dick.

            “As the alternates, it’s kinda our duty to look after the team,” Shea continues, his mirthful grin spreading to his eyes. “You know, make sure everyone’s getting what they need, feeling appreciated. Staying happy.” He grins and slaps Jamie’s ass as if to punctuate his speech. “Jonny’s here ‘cause he’s got a mouth to really make you feel appreciated.”

            Flushing indignantly, Jon adds, “Shea’s here because he’s got a cock that can make you really feel appreciated.”

            “Jonny’s also here ‘cause he can do that, too,” Shea adds quickly.

            Jamie startles them both (and himself) by laughing. “I feel like I’m in a porn right now. Is that dialogue pre-planned? You two brought me up here and _you’re_ the ones who’re embarrassed?”

            Jon and Shea look at each other and shrug with amusement, before Jon steps right up into Jamie’s face. “Alright Jamie,” he murmurs, his low voice heavy as his hand comes up to cup the back of Jamie’s head, the other with his fingers curling around his collar. His mouth hangs open like he’s going to say something else, but instead brings their lips together.

            Jamie surprises himself by melting into the kiss, and opening his lips right away, allowing Jon to bite at his lower lip. Jamie moans softly and Jon lets go, moving on to flick his tongue over the back of Jamie’s teeth. It’s open mouthed and dirty and Jamie didn’t know a human being could have a tongue this dexterous, if that’s even the right word, Jamie thinks absently, preoccupied by the sensation of it dragging around his mouth.

            Jonathan’s fingers are twisting in Jamie’s jet-black hair, tugging just enough to get the fire starting deep in Jamie’s gut to build. He realizes his hands have found their way to Jon’s hips and have pulled their bodies together so that they’re pressing, and Jon’s dick is half hard against his thigh. Jon’s his hips grind slowly against Jamie, sending shivers down his spine and he wonders just where Jon learned to do this.

            All of a sudden there’s a heavy warmth pressed against his back, and Jamie feels Shea’s breath on the back of his neck. Fingers skim the bottom hem of his loose t-shirt before sneaking underneath. He gasps into Jonny’s mouth as Shea’s fingers search across his abdomen.

            “I’m ticklish,” he pants past Jon’s lips and feels them turn into a smile. Shea chuckles from behind him, and Jamie is suddenly very aware of a growing hardness pressing against his ass. Shea uses the falter of his hands on Jon’s hips as an opportunity to lift Jamie’s shirt over his head. As Jamie’s naked back presses into Shea’s chest, he realizes there’s no fabric between them; shirt is already gone. Jamie’s hand trails down to grip Shea’s thigh and realizes his pants are gone, too. The only thing separating Shea’s dick from Jamie’s skin is a frighteningly thin pair of boxers.

            Jamie whines when Jon’s mouth disappears from his again and earns another low laugh from Shea in his ear. Jon struggles out of his shirt and kicks off his sweats and stupidly hot black performance underwear and suddenly Jamie is in the middle of an increasingly sweaty sandwich, skin and body pressing into him from either side, as the only remaining man with pants on.

            As Jamie opens his mouth for Jon again, he’s suddenly aware of all three of their bodies, not as one, but as cogs in a machine, in a strange kinda cheesy way. Shea, for all his infamous hugeness, is only a few inches taller than he and Jon, who Jamie realizes stand more or less at the same height. Shea definitely feels like a much larger man than the two of them anyway, both in stature and presence. Jamie can feel the lean muscle in Jonathan’s arms, chest, legs, knows he’s the smallest of the three but the most agile, the most lithe. Jamie, just like his physical presence in between his alternates, is also in the middle in terms of size. He wonders if they willed him to score on purpose just to make this work so well. He can’t imagine how this would be going down if someone like Marty had been the one to score. He also doesn’t really want to picture that, as much as he likes Marty.

            Jonny breaks their kiss again and a complaint catches in Jamie’s throat as Jon pulls Shea to his mouth and kisses him hard and Jamie is so turned on he almost thinks he could cum in his pants just from watching them. He’s distinctly aware of his cock aching for contact, and as though he senses Jamie’s thoughts, Jon begins to kiss his way down Jamie’s body. He makes sure to leave a mark under his jaw before moving to suck at his collarbone and weave his way down his chest.

            When he gets to Jamie’s sweats he looks up at him and grins and god, Jamie wants to drag him back him and kiss the smirk off his beautiful smug face. But he decides to settle for Jon’s mouth on his cock. Jon tugs the waistband of his pants and boxers down at the same time and examines Jamie’s nearly full dick.

            “Nice to finally get a close up look,” he says and then laughs, as if that was somehow inherently funny.

            “Finally?” Jamie can’t help probing.

            “God, Bennie, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all week,” Jonny groans. “So thanks for scoring again, otherwise I woulda kicked myself for not taking advantage of that first one.”

            Jamie gasps as Jon curls a hand around his dick, stroking thoughtfully, teasing him.

            “Well if you wanted to blow me in between those goals I wouldn’ta said no,” Jamie pants out. Then a thought hits, “I’m not the only one who’s scored.”

            Jon just smirks up at him, and god Jamie just wants those lips on him. Jon holds his gaze for a solid ten seconds. Then he takes Jamie’s into his mouth.

            Any thoughts of Shea and Jon fucking their other teammates or each other disappear as Jamie almost falls over because well, yeah. He definitely feels “appreciated.” Not even a minute later, as he’s still trying to stay upright, he feels Shea’s hot breath whispering at his ear.

            “Hey,” Shea murmurs, like it’s the most casual suggestion in the world. “Wan’ me to fuck you?”

            Jamie shudders as Jon makes a particularly slow drag of his tongue down his shaft and hisses out a “yes.” He’d be embarrassed at how shaky his voice is coming out but he’s beyond caring about anything other than Jonny’s mouth on his cock and Shea’s cock on his ass.

            Shea laughs, “Hey Tazer, don’t get him too worked up yet, he’s gotta last a little longer.” Jon flips him off and elaborately swipes his tongue across Jamie’s slit. His tongue dances along Jamie’s cock for a few more bobs of his head, Jamie’s fingers gripping his short hair, before pulling off. He kisses at Jamie’s thigh before abruptly standing up, and Jamie whines urgently.

            “Right,” he says, ignoring Jamie’s pleas, “on the bed, Bennie. Be good.”

            His commands go straight to Jamie’s dick, and without a word, he clambers on onto the bed on all fours. He feels the mattress dip behind him with a new weight – Shea, he thinks – and sure enough, he feels the rough palm of the Predators’ captain gently grip his ass.

            “You good?”

            “Yeah,” Jamie mumbles, dick throbbing, “good.”

            “Jonny get in here,” Shea directs, before dropping one cold, lubed finger to Jamie’s hole and tracing the rim before dipping it in. Jamie shoves his face into the sheets and pillow, his mind a jumbled mess and his mouth hanging open. This entire experience has just been sensation after sensation, and true to form it’s not long before Jon’s pressed against his side, calloused palm wrapped around Jamie’s dick again.

            Jamie moans into the sheets, followed by a sharp gasp of profanity as Shea adds more fingers. He hears Jonny say something to Shea but he’s too lost in sensation to listen. He figures what it must have been anyway when he feels Shea plant a kiss on his asscheek, and trail sucking kisses over to meet his fingers. Jamie’s never been rimmed before but fuckfuckfuck it’s good.

            Jon’s weight pressing on his side disappears but his presence returns as he uses the hand that’s not on Jamie’s dick to turn his head and kiss him slowly and sloppily. “How you doing, Jamie?” he asks between kisses.

            “Fuck,” Jamie pants into his mouth.

            “Pretty good, then, I’d say,” he says, tone light but voice thick. “You ready for Shea?”

            “Yeah,” he gasps.

            Jamie laments the disappearance of the sensation of Shea’s fingers. The feeling of the bed shifting as Shea adjusts his position seems to take an eternity and Jamie needs more and he needs it now or he’s going to die, probably.

            “Do it,” he wiggles his ass – what is he doing, trying to temp Shea? As if those fingers signalled anything other than sheer desire – as the big man presses his body against him. “Shea.” His pleas, instantly embarrassing as soon as they leave his mouth, coming in one word syllables.

            He can feel Shea’s body rumble with laughter. “Alright, kid, alright,” he pulls back and Jamie can feel his dick now pressing against his hole and he starts squirming backwards because god he needs this already. “You’re sure eager.”

            “Shea, _fuck_ me-” Jamie begins, and whatever words were going to follow turn into an incoherent jumble in his brain as Shea pushes in.

            It’s gentle at first, Shea making sure Jamie is alright before starting to thrust, Jon stroking his hair, before Jamie manages to gasp out “please.” And even though Jamie wasn’t entirely sure what he was begging for, Shea and Jon seem to know exactly what to do. Shea's good at this, too good, and his grip on Jamie's hips tighten and for the next few days he is going to be fondly tracing the light bruises Shea's fingers leave. His thrusts become harder, not yet urgent, but more controlling, more intense. Jon tangles his fingers in Jamie’s hair and uses his grip to pull Jamie’s head back and suck on his neck until Jamie has to fall onto his chest, clutching at the sheets, Jon’s fingers still wound through his hair.

            All the work Jamie’s done to get here, all the training, the scoring, the proving himself since not being invited to orientation camp, all of it falls away. He forgets the goal he scored on Jonathan Quick, he forgets that he’s going home with an Olympic medal, he forgets that it has to be gold. The only thing is this moment, is the electric feeling throughout his body, and the bonfire in hit gut getting hotter and hotter. He can feel the edge getting closer.

            He hears but doesn’t really hear the sloppy noises of Jon kissing Shea behind him, the fingers still tugging in his hair with every thrust. All the small moans he’s sure must have been coming out of his mouth stop in his throat, and yeah, this is- this-

            “Gonna,” his breath coming heavy as he speaks into the sheets, “gonna-”

            And then he does, fingers curling so tightly he can feel his nails through the sheets against his palms, an explosion of pent up _everything_ – effort, hockey, sex – that rushes through his whole body. The fire burns the whole town down before he distantly feels a hand stroking him through his orgasm and he slumps forward, feeling very appreciated.

            Shea rubs Jamie’s flank, “I’ve got a ways to go, want me to finish or wanna see me fuck Tazer’s brains out?”

            “Fuck Jonny,” Jamie mumbles into fabric. He feels a little empty after Shea pulls out, and flops onto his side.

            Jon licks his hand clean of Jamie’s cum, and licks the splatter across his stomach. Absently, Jamie notices Shea behind Jon, but his attention focuses back on the Blackhawks captain as he drags his tongue up his chest to kiss Jamie on the mouth. The taste of his own cum leaks past his lips and Jamie groans into the upturned corners of Jon’s open mouth.

            Jamie isn’t sure how long they kiss but he knows it can’t have been very long before Jon pulls off and is tossed by Shea onto the other single bed. Jamie watches lazily as Shea fucks Jon on his back, both of them looking strangely practiced, fitting together like they’d done this too many times ( _2010_ , Jamie remembers). The whole time Jonny is making the most obscene noises, (in English, French, and Incoherent Moan) that can only mean Shea knows exactly what angle to fuck him at, and it’s weird and intimate and open and casual and Jamie’s not sure what to make of it, except that he’s really enjoying the show. Shea’s head dips into Jon’s shoulder right before he comes, hard, with Jon following only moments later.

            They collapse on top of each other and lie there, catching their breath, until Jonny shoves Shea off (who provides a tiny grunt of indignation) and rolls over to face Jamie.

            “How you feelin’, Bennie?”

            “Quite the show, fellas,” Jamie grins, fingers dancing in the crook of his knee. “I take it this happens often?”

            Jon just returns the grin, adds a tidbit to get Jamie’s imagination flowing. “Whoever scores in the gold medal game is gonna have a hell of a time.”

            “Whoever it is, I think I could donate some of my time to helping,” Jamie raises his eyebrows pointedly. “I don’t have an Olympic letter, but we’re all NHL captains, eh?”

            “I think that can be arranged,” Shea says, rising from the bed. “You two better hope it’s one of you because there’s a lot more I wanna do to you both. ‘M gonna shower.”

            On his way to the bathroom, Jon says, and Jamie picks up a little bit of frustration in his voice, “I’m the only one who hasn’t scored yet, so I better make sure I get one before the tournament ends, eh?”

            Absentmindedly, as he drags his eyes down the sturdy, exposed body of Jonathan Toews, Jamie can’t help but think about how much he’d like to return today’s favour.


End file.
